


Trust

by BIGHANK (piano_fire)



Series: Threadfic Collection [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Trans Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piano_fire/pseuds/BIGHANK
Summary: Hank's afraid to tell Connor about his needle phobia in fear of being viewed differently. Luckily, Connor is anything but judgmental.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Original completion date: 2/28/19
> 
> So I posted a poll on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlGHANK) if I should start posting my threadfics to Ao3, and everyone voted yes! So over time I'll be doing some slight reformatting and tweaks and posting them here. I'll post most of the finished ones, bar any I'm not a huge fan of personally. For the most part not much will be changed, but I have planned to add a couple of bonus scenes and expand on existing writing for a few of them :)
> 
> So since this was written in a Twitter thread, the formatting might be a little different than how I usually write. Here's the [original thread](https://twitter.com/BlGHANK/status/1101297822874435584) , and my entire [thread moment](https://twitter.com/i/moments/1086477396918837248) for those interested.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

In all the years Hank's been on testosterone, it never got any easier. His deep fear of needles resulted in him spending hours shaking and crying before finally getting it over with. 

But then Connor came into his life. For a while Hank tried to keep his fear under wraps. He didn't want Connor to see him in such a vulnerable state, it was shameful and embarrassing. Surely his opinion of Hank would change; He's supposed to be strong and fearless, not reduced to a sobbing mess over a tiny needle. 

So every Friday he'd lock himself in the bathroom whenever Connor was out running errands. But Connor was a damn good detective. He noticed Hank's heightened stress levels each Friday. He always seemed to be rushing Connor out of the house, telling him to take all the time he needed. The pattern was clear, but he was unsure of how to broach the subject without offending him.

So the weeks went by, Connor's curiosity only growing. If he learned one thing about human emotion, is that Hank usually needed space. So he acted as if he were none the wiser.

And then one Friday, it seemed that nothing went right. The precinct's coffee machine broke down, so Hank had to trudge through the day exhausted, with a caffeine headache to boot. The case they'd been working on for weeks showed more and more dead ends. Gavin was being shittier than usual. Connor noticed Hank's stress levels rise. 

When they finally arrive home, Hank plops down on the couch and rubs his temples, trying his best to relax. Connor brought him a glass of water and aspirin in hopes to at least treat the headache still present. 

"I think I'll go and run some errands now. Do you need anything?" 

Hank's stress levels spike. He doesn't show it though, and opts to shake his head.

"Would you prefer me to stay?" Connor cocked his head.

Hank looks at him incredulously. "Fuck no, I just want to be left alone."

"Well I noticed your stress levels rise when I-"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop fucking analyzing me?!" Hank snaps. Connor tries not to take it personally, he usually gets irritable when stressed; But the severity of the reaction concerned him. 

Hank rubs his hands over his face. "Fuck, I'm sorry Con. Go get your shopping done, okay? I just need some space."

Right, space. Connor must've overstepped again. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Hank."

Hank sighs. "You didn't do anything wrong kid. Don't worry about it."

Only Connor continued to worry the entire time he was out. He picked up the necessities in record time, solely focusing on returning to Hank. Humans need space, this much is true. But he’d been so much better at opening up since Connor moved in. Why was he pushing him away? 

These shopping trips usually took around two hours, but this time Connor managed to get back in just one. Admittedly he was expecting Hank to be sat at the kitchen table, working through a bottle of Black Lamb he managed to hide from him. But as he walked in, Hank was nowhere in sight. Relief quickly morphed into worry as he heard the noises coming from down the hall. 

Choked, ugly sobs alongside labored breathing. He immediately assumes that Hank must be injured. Connor doesn't think twice before rushing to down the hall. He quickly identifies the noise coming from the bathroom and rips the door open. Connor's expecting blood or some major injury, but what he sees pains him just as much. 

Hank is sitting on the toilet doubled over, hyperventilating and crying. A quick scan reveals his stress levels and heart rate are dangerously high. Hank had told Connor he's had panic attacks before, but acted as if they were a thing of the past. 

"Hank?" Connor whispers shakily, he's not even sure if he heard.

Hank jolts, surprised at the sudden noise. "W-What are you d-doing here?" 

Connor approaches slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him. "I was worried, you've been pushing me away so much lately."

Hank shakes his head. "Just l-leave me a-alone. I'm f-fine"  
"You call this fine? I don't know what you're going through but you don't have to do it alone, Hank. Not anymore." He sits on the edge of the tub, just inches away.  
"Would it be alright if I touched you?" Connor whispers

Hank just nods, his body still shaking with each breath. Connor gently entwines his fingers with Hank's and squeezes. For the next few minutes he whispers comforting words as Hank's breathing begins to slow. The sobs become sniffles, and their hands remain clasped together. They sit quietly for a few moments, save for the occasional sniffle from Hank. 

"I... I didn't want you to see me like that." Hank rasps. 

Connor tilts his head. "Why not?"

Hank sighs. "It's... Embarrassing"

Connor frowns at that. This was always a human concept he struggled with

"Crying is nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, you were the one to tell me that." Connor thinks about the first time he cried. Sumo was ill and even though the vets said he'd be fine, seeing the dog in pain upset him. He worried it was a malfunction, but Hank reassured him. Hank snorts. "I think we know by now I'm a bit of a hypocrite. But either way, that wasn't just crying." 

"Panic attacks aren't shameful either. But... You told me you didn't have them anymore." Connor cocks his head. 

Hank chuckles. "Every fucking Friday, Con."

It stings more than Connor would've expected. "Why would you lie to me?"

And that's when Hank snaps. "I just feel weak, okay?! I get myself worked up over some tiny fucking needle every goddamn week!" The anger isn't directed at Connor, but himself. Connor glances at the sink, where an abandoned syringe sits. He hadn't noticed it when he initially barged into the bathroom. He was too focused on assuring Hank's safety.

"Phobias aren't a sign of weakness, Hank." Connor says quietly, giving Hank's hand a comforting squeeze. "I just thought after doing this for what, 30 years? I'd be over it by now."

"I don't think you need me to tell you that is not how it works." Connor cracks a smile, and Hank does too. 

"Yeah well, doesn't make me feel less of a chickenshit." Hank chuckles. A wave of relief washes of Connor seeing Hank back in better spirits. But, there was still much to be addressed. 

"Don't feel ashamed to ask for help."

"You act like it's so easy,"

"It isn't, I know. But nothing you can say or do will make me think differently of you."

Hank sighs and turns to smile at Connor. "Lord knows why."

"I could make a list but we'd be here for a long time."

Hank snorts. "Alright ya big sap, could you hand me the needle?"

Connor nods and retrieves the syringe, sitting on the edge of the tub once more. Connor hands the syringe over to Hank, where he grasps it tightly. His hands begin to shake again as he stares at his thigh. His stress levels were rapidly rising again.

Hank swears and shoves the syringe back into Connor's hands. "Can you do it just... This once?"

Connor smiles and begins scanning his thigh for the optimal injection location. "Of course. I'll do this every time, if you like."

"We'll... We'll see. I just want to get this over with." 

Connor goes about disinfecting the site with some alcohol wipes Hank left on the sink. Hank squeezes his eyes shut and grasps Connor thigh tightly in an attempt to ground himself. Connor pushes down the warmth he feels in favor of the task at hand.

"I'll count down from 3, okay?"

Hank simply nods, and Connor readies the syringe. 

"3... 2... 1..."

Hank flinches slightly but relaxes soon after, and the hormones go in without issue. Connor tenderly removes the syringe and disposes of it in the sharps container that's kept under the sink. He sits back down on the edge of the tub, grasping Hank's hand once more. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright... I just normally bleed like a stuck pig though. How'd you do that?" Indeed, there was only a small pinprick of blood.

"Simple calculations really. I can show you the ideal method and location next time." Connor smiles.

"Yeah... I think I'd like that."

The next week went better, but even so Hank was still nervous. Connor held his hand for 20 minutes to help ground him.

"You don't have to keep holding my hand, you know."

"I know. But I like it. And it helps your stress levels." 

A few minutes later, Hank did it, no tears necessary. 

The next few weeks passed, and their relationship only grew stronger. Some days were too difficult and Connor had to inject for him, but Hank didn’t let himself feel ashamed any longer. It became easier to ask for help, especially when they inevitably got together.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlGHANK)!


End file.
